


Frozen sky

by Pan_with_no_plan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Also not original aT ALL, Angst, Demons, M/M, basically it's really bad, dean sacrifices himself for Castiel, kinda cringey, much destiel, nothing new then, this is my first fic so plz don't judge me for it being tEriBLe, whooP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-08 09:18:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7751971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pan_with_no_plan/pseuds/Pan_with_no_plan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is dead and Dean realises he must fix his mistakes.<br/>________________________</p><p>This is really terrible and probably wildly inaccurate cuz I've only watched up to season 5 so plz don't hate :)</p><p>Also I'm just generally bad at writing so yeh... Enjoy</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frozen sky

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

The brittle crunch of snow cuts through the frozen air, disturbing the silent abyss of the night that surrounds the dark figure slowing making their way up the icy path.

Dean tries to concentrate on that lone sound echoing through the trees on either side of him. He tries to concentrate on the rhythm of his footsteps, crushing the snow beneath him.

Left, right  
Right, left.

He tries, with all the effort that has not already drained away, to keep his eyes on the horizon.  
Don't look down, don't look down.

Don't. Look. Down. 

With a sharp intake of breath, Dean glances down to his chest. The cold, lifeless eyes of Castiel stare back.

Dean lets out a sob and stops in his tracks. A salty tear runs down his chin and splashes onto Cas' face. Dean stares into his eyes, blue as a clear winter's sky. Though now they hold none of the life they previously had. A streak of crimson is smeared across his cheek, vibrant against his pale skin. 

The frail body of his Angel hangs limp in Dean's arms.

Dean struggles to stay standing, his legs shake and his hands tremble with such force that he fears he may drop Cas onto the frozen ground below.

Cas.  
His Angel.  
The one who had stuck with him through his moments of despair and loss, walked with him across landscapes of grief and pain, and saved him from the thing he feared the most. Himself.

Dean refuses to believe it, refuses to give in to the truth. But deep down, he knows what had happened.  
He knows that his companion, his friend, his guardian angel, Castiel, is dead. 

With cold determination set in his face, dean places one stiff foot in front of the other, and continues to tread up the snow-encrusted walkway that disintegrates into the shadowy mist.

A silhouette begins to form up ahead. A wooden sign, marking a crossroads. Dean knows what he must do, what he has to do. 

He approaches the centre of the crossroads, and gently lays down Cas on the gravel. He pulls a small, rusted container out of his jacket pocket, and drops it beside his feet.  
Dean gets down on his knees and begins to claw at the rough stones with his hands, and soon the metal box rests in a small ditch in the path.

Dean, glancing back at the pale frame of Castiel, his shredded trench coat soaked by the snow, covers the ditch with one sweep of gravel. He stands, slowly turns in a circle, searching for something, seemingly hidden in the mist.

There.

A pair of blood red eyes are staring at him through the vail that shrouds the skies. The eyes bore into his skull, and a throbbing headache begins to grow in the back of his mind.

"Hey there Dean."

The caressing voice seems to pull at his gut, coaxing him towards the figure poised near the wooden sign across from him.

Dean treads forwards, and soon reaches the shrouded woman. She wears a loose black dress and red high heels. Killer, you you say. 

"You know what I want."

Dean says the words in a haze. The world seems fuzzy, as if he is about to wake, and find the world just as it should be. 

It feels as if he is viewing the world through 6 feet of icy harsh water.

It's feels as if he is drowning.

The woman blinks softly, and in an an instant, her eyes turn blood red. She gestures to Cas, spread out across the cold ice below. 

"I should think it's fairly obvious. You Winchesters are so eager to throw yourselves in front to save another life. I suppose that was always your downfall." 

Dean pushes the comment aside, barely acknowledging it. 

"Can you save him or can you not?" 

His voice is as harsh as the winds that now push around them, as if eager to listen in on the conversation. 

"Yes."

The demon gives a sly grin, a panther waiting to strike. 

"Are you really willing to give up your life, your existence, for this mistake of an angel? And such a destructive one at that? Surely--"

"No."

The single word escapes Dean's lips and the demon falls silent.

"You don't understand"

The winds howl and Dean glances round and realises a storm is beginning to grow. He sees Cas, half-hidden under a sheet of snow. His skeletal face and broad features do not give off the humble glow they did before, and his piercing blue eyes show nothing but emptiness. Cold, hard. An angel frozen in time.

Salty tears form in Dean's eyes, and a chilling sense of dread fills him to the brim.

"You don't understand." He repeats, facing away from the wall of hailstones ramming against his face.

"Cas isn't any angel. 

He's my angel."

Dean's voice brakes and he collapses to the ground, sobbing in grief, willing for it to all be over. The pain overwhelms him. He can barely breathe.

"Okay then."

He looks up one last time to see the woman grasp Dean's neck, and press her lips against his, sealing the deal.

Suddenly, the blizzard that had been slowly building drops to nothing. The mist slowly rolls away, leaving a crisp winters air and an icy sky.

Silence.

More prominent than ever.

Not even a single chirp from a robin or the slight gust of wind to pierce a hole in the dark blanket suffocating the landscape in hollow silence.

Nothing stirs for a long time.

Then, without warning, Castiel sits up, seemingly mystified at his own consciousness. A broad smile appears on his face.

He looks around, as if expecting something. Or someone.

Cas pushes himself to his feet, and turns around, the same distracted look in his eyes. 

Then, with a halt, he seems to recognise where he stands. The crossroads between two paths. A sign marks the place.

Cas spots the slight mound in the centre of the roads.

The smile falls from his face like the flick of a switch as he realises what must have happened. Of the events that must have followed.

He falls to the ground, and a cry falls from his lips. He bows his head low, locks of dark hair hiding his face from sight. As tears cascade down his cheeks, Cas call out for Dean, calls for him to return.

But he knows he will not.

Dean will never return.

Dean had given up his soul to save him, had given Cas a second chance, though he knows that he did not deserve one.

Cas sobs and his shoulders heave. His body falls back against the frozen gravel, and he lies there, not moving, not thinking straight. Blinded by grief.

All he knows is that dean is gone.

Gone forever.

And he was never coming back.


End file.
